


Illustrations in a Book of Knights

by Prochytes



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:47:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27495208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prochytes/pseuds/Prochytes
Summary: For the last battle, a warrior needs her steed. “Needs” is not the same as “wants”.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	Illustrations in a Book of Knights

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for _Thor: Ragnarok_ and _Avengers: Endgame_.

The birds came back first, spat without ceremony from the unyielding blue. Next, the fish, to judge by the sudden turmoil of the sea. From the grass arose a telltale rustle, as Midgard, voice faltering at first with long disuse, took up again the small tales of burrowing things. The Valkyrie gaped as she watched the languid miracle around her, a world refreshing, refleshing, undoing the long triumph of the dust.

She drew her sword.

“No call for the blade, just yet,” said a voice behind her. “Exposition before dismemberment. Though not _much_ before, if that helps any.”

The Valkyrie wheeled. At the cliff edge, by a lucent oval, stood a tall man. For one of Midgard, his cape game was strong.

“Last Valkyrie,” said the man. He waved a hand; the portal beside him vanished. “My name is Stephen Strange. We need to talk.”

“The Midgard archimage. Loki spoke of you,” The Valkyrie lifted Dragonfang, “and not fondly.”

“Yeah, well, Loki was an asshole.”

“He died a hero.”

“Assholes sometimes do. I did.”

The Valkyrie’s breath caught. “Stark’s plan worked, then? The fallen are returned? My people…”

“… are revenanting it up in whatever galactic nowheresville you’d reached at the moment Thanos did his thing. Banner will have brought them back safe; ‘safe’ and ‘convenient’ are two different beasts. We all won big.” Strange sighed. “Without your help, though, we soon lose bigger.”

“How could you know such…?” She peered up into his face. “Ah. I see the future in your eyes.”

“ _Futures_ \- very plural. There are still far too many on the table.”

“You have drunk of Mimir’s well, wizard. A heady brew, isn’t it?”

“I’ve had better mornings after.” Strange stepped forward. “You must call Asgard to war, quickly. Time is short, with much potential for pain and error.”

“Then Time is the twin of me.” The sword-tip grazed his chest. “The catch, wizard.”

Strange leaned back a little. “Catch?”

“You sighed to call a Valkyrie to battle. So, there’s something you’re not saying. What’s the catch?”

Strange paused for a moment before speaking. “Asgard must march to war. But you must ride.”

***

“No.” The Valkyrie sheathed Dragonfang. “There has to be another way.”

“I can say with the absolute clarity of a Mímisbrunnr hangover that there is not.”

“You do not know what you ask.”

“I know.” Strange gestured towards the village. “Do they?” He watched The Valkyrie’s hand clench on the pommel of her sword. “Ah – thought so. You didn’t tell them.”

The Valkyrie was silent.

“They must have had questions, surely? Did they never ask what happened to all the horses? Even in Asgard, that eight-legged one…”

“Sleipnir, Odin’s own steed. Twice as many legs to kick you when you were down.”

“Even in Asgard, Sleipnir must have been a conversation piece. And yet Sleipnir was gone, all of a sudden, never to neigh again, when the old man died. Did no one ask?”

“While I was away, on Sakaar,” The Valkyrie turned and began to stride back towards the village, “Asgard got good at not asking awkward questions. Even Thor did not.”

“So, they don’t know the horses were never real.”

“The horses were real.” The Valkyrie wheeled around to glare. “As real as fealty, or as faith. Our magic is not yours.”

“I see.” Strange was floating serenely in her wake. Bastard might just as easily have walked. “What do you think my magic is?”

“Contracts. Loans. Instruments, to borrow fleeting power where you may. An Asgardian’s magic is an oath – an undertaking to the world. The horse was how I told the Nine Realms I was true. When Hela laid low all but me, the world knew I was not, and so did I.”

Strange said nothing. His shadow was long upon the grass.

“Hear me well, Archimage of Earth. If the reckoning is finally at hand, I will walk through chaos and damnation in our cause – but I will walk. I will bring strength and cunning and skill to the battle before us. But I will not bring faith.”

The Valkyrie turned, and resumed her course back to the village.

“I am not worthy,” she said. “I cannot call the horse.”

***

They had almost reached the village proper, now. Children were playing in the cobbled streets – heedless, still, of the lately doubled world.

“What is your part, in the trial to come?” The Valkyrie asked.

“Logistics, mostly. My… contracts are good at moving folks around. Once you gather Asgard, I can take all of us where we need to be.”

“Anything else?”

“It’s likely I’ll be holding up a lake.” Strange looked at a small girl, who was craning her neck to stare at him. “Hello.”

“Hello. Your cloak is nice.”

“Between us, it is, but you shouldn’t feed its ego. What’s your name?”

“Líf.”

“I’m Stephen. Tell me, Líf: who’s in charge round here?”

Líf pointed at The Valkyrie, who scowled.

“That is not true.”

“Seems a lot like Líf thinks it is. Líf, is The Valkyrie good at being in charge? You can speak freely; I’m scarier than she is.”

“He is not,” said The Valkyrie.

“Neither of you scares me,” said Líf. “But she is.”

“I like her,” said Strange, as Líf wandered off in the direction of a rabbit. “Where were we?”

“I see what you are trying, wizard. The child is moonstruck; her word means nothing.”

“Reflections are my workstation, Last of the Valkyries. An unexpected one isn’t usually on the mirror.”

“I…” The Valkyrie watched Líf earnestly proffering a leaf. “I am not now the woman who called the horse.”

“Do you have to be?” Strange descended to stand by her side. “I was a real doctor, once. _Primum non nocere_ , and all that jazz. Today, if all goes well, my big achievement – besides logistics, and the lake – will be persuading a good man to kill himself.”

“You would do that?”

“I already have. He just doesn’t know it yet.”

“You and the Borson would have been boon companions.”

***

The rabbit was staring at the leaf. After a moment, it lolloped forward, with a slow see-sawing of its back. It ate the leaf.

“Tell me about him,” said Strange.

“Odin? What is there to tell? He was brutal, valiant, and sly. He was a bastard. I miss the years when hate for him was easy.”

“Why did those years end?”

“Because I have owned my sins on Sakaar. And because I hear Thor speak of how he was, in latter days: one who looked back on his steps, and saw he had walked in blood.” The Valkyrie’s jaw clenched. “Understanding is not mercy. He sent my sisters to the slaughter; I do not forgive him.”

“Would Odin have wanted your forgiveness, now?”

“No. He would have wanted us to win. In that, at least, he and I are of one mind.” The Valkyrie looked at Líf, who was propped up on her elbows, examining a rock. “Your sight tells you that there is no other way?”

“It does.”

“Then step aside, wizard. Your people were in caves, when last I called.”

The Valkyrie closed her eyes, and thought of a day in meadows that were stardust now, lost as her name. So wide, so wide and cold, the gulf that yawned between the young paladin of that day, and the wearied woman of this. But every moment of that day (The Valkyrie breathed, and heard the rush of her own blood) - every moment of every day, for all who nestle in the World-Ash’s branches – had offered up its test: its call to win, or fail, or fail and win again, anew. Every beat of a heart ushers in its challenge. Every beat of a heart.

Every beat of a hoof.

The Valkyrie opened her eyes. She reached out her hand to the snowy flank before her.

“He looks different,” she said.

“A different woman called him,” said Strange. “We go to war?”

“Yes,” said The Valkyrie. “We ride.”

FINIS

**Author's Note:**

> The title is taken from "The Horses", by Edwin Muir.


End file.
